


Morning Coffee

by Ellepige



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Goodbyes, Post-Recall, Romance, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 21:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10396695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellepige/pseuds/Ellepige
Summary: Fareeha is ready to follow the Recall. Angela is not.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!
> 
> This one is for my Pharah. You know who you are.  
> We'll fly together.
> 
> Unbeta'd, we die like men today. (I might find and fix mistakes, though. Don't worry!)  
> I recommend listening to Mike Sinatra's beautiful rendition of Leaving on a Jet Plane while reading this.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eo_A7_G1wHI
> 
> As always, thank you all for the Kudos and Comments. ♥

The small flat in Cairo was what came closest to a home for them. Just two rooms, a crammed little kitchen with plateware that didn't match, the walls littered with photos taken on their journeys, lush rainforests, icy tundra, bright neon lights against concrete. Angela's tired smile, their hands with fingers interlaced. Some older pictures, too. Jack, Reinhardt, Ana, Gabriel. Back then, when they still seemed happy. Gaudy christmas cards from Winston and Lena. Cutouts from international newspapers about a certain cowboy on the run.  
Fareeha knew it was Jesse, knew he was probably doing what he thought was right in the only way he knew. On his own. She missed him sometimes, the loud, carefree laughter, his voice, smooth as the Whiskey he'd drunk since she got to know him, when they were both way too young for habits like that. Fareeha remembered trying the amber liquid once and how she'd flinched at the smoky taste and the alcoholic burn that followed. She never tried booze again. Same for smoking, another thing that seemed intriguing when you spent time with Jesse McCree, who sucked on cigarettes like someone who knew exactly how he screwed his own health with it. Someone who didn't care that it'd kill him one day. The thought still hurt. The gunslinger had been the brother she never had. Brave and mischievous. Fun. Sometimes even protective. Not in the overboarding way her mother had been, but more subtle. Fareeeha had only realized that it was Jesse who protected her dream of the just cause of Overwatch when the headquarter in Zurich was blown to pieces. He must have known.  
But all these things were worries of the past, worries that seemed far away, even though they had resurfaced with the recall.

Her coffee mug was already empty, the one she'd prepared for Angela slowly got cold besides it. She knew her girlfriend liked milk and sugar in her morning coffee, while she forewent the milk during the day, settling for coffee that was black as tar and bittersweet. She looked though the door to their living room, to the bed under the sloped ceiling. It was almost a nest, with translucent curtains and too many pillows. An airy hiding place where they spent their precious time together, as if it would shield them from the world outside they both knew too well. Angela stirred in her sleep.  
Fareeha couldn't bring herself to waking her, the medic slept too little anyways, only managing to get a few hours when she was both mentally and physically so exhausted that her body gave up. Had she been her own doctor, Angela would have scolded herself. But she wasn't, if anything, Dr. Ziegler was her own judge. She pushed herself mercilessly.  
They didn't argue when the Recall came. It wouldn't have changed a thing, Fareeha thought as she looked at her duffle bag already sitting in the corner since the last evening. She was a soldier, she'd always been willing to risk her life to save others. Had been prepared to kill for the greater good, as well. She understood that Angela wasn't comfortable with it. She'd seen the effects of war more prominently than anybody else. Wounds, the cries of injured and dying people, the suffering every battle left behind. Not only had she seen it, she'd experienced that loss herself. 

And even though Fareeha knew she risked her life as well as putting Angela in the same situation again, she had to go. Slowly, the body on the bed moved, Angela streched and yawned loudly enough for Pharah to hear it in the kitchen. Soft footsteps against the tiled floor. The early sunlight in her blonde hair left the illusion of a halo. Angela wore one of her T-Shirts, slightly too large and washed-out. She was beautiful.  
"You've gotta go, hm?" As usual, her lover came straight to the point. It stung, even though there was no reproach in her voice.  
"I... still have a few minutes left. But I already called the cab."  
Angela smiled, conquering the last few steps towards the counter, but instead of reaching for her coffee mug as she usually did, she wrapped her arms around Fareeha's waist and hugged her close. Her own arms closed around slim shoulders, her fingers combed through soft hair that would smell faintly of lavender if she pressed her nose against it. She was afraid that Angela would demand promises now. That she'd come back unharmed. That she'd be careful. That they'd see each other again. Fareeha was afraid of that because she wouldn't be able to say if she'd live up to promises like that.  
"I love you. I love you so much, mein Liebes." The medic's breath was warm and slightly damp against the crook of her neck.  
Suddently, Pharah felt her throat constrict. "I love you too," she managed, her voice breaking to a croak.  
Angela pulled back slightly, their bodies still pressed against each other, the bare skin of her legs against Fareeha's jeans.  
"Remember that stupid movie your mom said was a classic?"  
"She said that about almost every 1990s action movie?" Despite the weight of the situation, the soldier chuckled slightly. "You mean Demolition Man?"  
"No, the other one."  
"Terminator? The Matrix?"  
"No! That one was actually good, don't you think?"  
"Well... I slept halfway though it, I don't really remember," Pharah admitted with a shrug that made Angela's smile brighten up a little. "So which one do you mean."  
"I think it was called Armageddon. The one with this sweet little song."  
"A song?" She vaguely remembered something about an earth-endangering meteor or comet and a lot of action in space.  
"I'm leaving on a Jet Plane... don't know when I'll be back again..." Angela hummed the melody before she got up on her tiptoes and kissed Pharah who felt herself melt into the touch.  
"That was cheesy," she muttered against her girlfriend's soft lips.  
"Yeah, but I know you love that."  
"I don't! Well.. occasionally."

They stood together like this, breathing in each other's breath until the taxi arrived and the driver rang the doorbell twice. Leaving had never felt harder, but she knew it was alright.  
They both knew what war meant and what was at stake. And they both were ready to pay the price.  
Maybe one day they'd fly together again.


End file.
